Various Methods of Antagonization
by refloc
Summary: In which various people antagonize Julius in various way for various reasons with various degrees of success. Pretty funny, usually light, and I think everyone will enjoy it. Um, I forgot about the swearing from dearest Julius. I just changed the rating,
1. Clean Punches

**IMPORTANT-ish. PLEASE READ ALL OF MY SUPER-HUGE AUTHOR'S NOTE. (sorry. It's almost as long as the chatper.)To those of you who read Flame of the Gods, there is now a link in my file of a picture I found on deviantArt that I swear is Valerie. (after Zane dies) Go look at it if you like, and be sure to review for whoever drew it (bother, I can't remember). Oh, and there's a link to a gorgeous picture of Holly. The Profile has been updated with various things. Check it out.  
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**I really didn't feel like waiting for Monday, so I'm updating now. ;) I get nervous from waiting. This summer, I won't be able to be on ffnet as much, (though more than last summer) but I'd prefer it if no one forgot me. Therefore, I'm going to keep chapters coming, every week, same as always, except these chapters are going to be more like short fics that could stand on their own. I've decided to group them together, though, for my poor friend, who may be updating for me, and checking my account, and all kinds of tedious things that I love her for.**

**There will be several chapters, all loosely related, centering around some kind of mischief or other. Mostly funny, not really anything serious, and I hope you'll enjoy them. I may continue this little series every summer if it's popular.**

**The following chapter was actually taken from a much longer fic that makes no sense whatsoever when the Fowl Files are read, because Root and Trouble didn't meet Holly until she went in to pass the test, and all of that. However, this scene works because… because it does, and I think it's very funny.**

**Off track though. Back to the story. Read it, review it, I'm working on a long one. Oh yes, and this is dedicated to welovechocolate, just because she(or maybe he or they) have reviewed so much, and sent my lots of encouraging notes when I needed them.**

**I love you all too,**

**O.R.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.

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Holly scowled at the gnome. Big, and burly, and mean looking. The other girls looked terrified— except for Frond, who was so busy flipping that long blond hair, that she hadn't even noticed him.

"Rule number one," growled the gnome.

_No, you don't say? _thought Holly. _Ought we to have started with rule number sixty-three?_

"You!" A thick finger pointed at her. "Stop looking so insolent! Pay attention, or I'll have you run laps for the next three hours, and then three more after supper!"

"Me sir?" asked Holly sweetly. "I'm paying attention. I apologize if it looked like I wasn't."

He grunted, and went into a lengthy explanation of how the guns worked. Holly stood up straight, and listened with apparently rapt attention. Far from it however. She was thinking about what the rest of her training would be like. All kind of things, though what they were, she'd only been given vague information about.

She didn't need to pay attention, really. When she'd gotten her text books, two days ago, she'd stayed up half the night going over the lessons for the next three weeks. She'd memorized the parts of different guns years ago— ever since Tanya had accused her of sketching the safety in the wrong place one day when they were little.

Tanya was a good friend. Her cousin had been in the LEP. He was in politics now, or something, but that had sparked the interest that had led Holly to where she was now.

"What's your name?" The instructor leaned down, close enough for Holly to read his name tag. A one mister Tron.

"Short, Holly, sir!" She wasn't going to let him rant about saying it wrong, even though most new recruits did. It infuriated people— not being able to accuse you of anything wrong, though they had the sneaking suspicion that you weren't an exact angel.

"I'll see you at the end of the session."

"Very good, sir!"

Tron gritted his teeth, and stalked on down the row, looking for other daydreamers.

Holly wrinkled her nose at his back, and went back to thinking. No harm done. A few extra minutes to avoid history was always welcome. Human history especially. It was boring. Besides, she relished the thought of smearing that self-satisfied smirk off Tron's face. She knew what she was doing. Why bother listening? It was torture.

Chairs were pushed back, and all around her, the other girls moved towards the door. It was stupid, really, she mussed— separating the girls from the men for the first three months.

The door shut, and she stood up beside her chair, waiting to be yelled at.

She was not disappointed.

"Who do you think you are? If you don't know this stuff, you're going to get your cute butt kicked out of the Academy, and you can kiss your career good_bye_! I want to see you run after supper. You will be down on the track at exactly six thirty-five!"

"Yes, sir!"

Muttering to himself, the Tron turned around, and bustled out, slamming the door behind him, as he pulled out a pen. No doubt to write it down before he forgot. Holly grinned, and shuffled towards the door, wasting more and more of her Human history class.

* * *

After a monotonously stiff and silent supper, Holly got up, and jogged to the track. She got there about twenty seconds early. Supper was done at six thirty. What she saw was not pleasant. 

The men, naturally. Men were never pleasant. And these were the real jocks. The guys trying to top everyone's record, and make it to Recon. The so called: 'tough guys'. Great. She'd get pushed around and shoved even more. And made fun of. But if she even glared at one of them, she'd be running laps all_ night_ for mister Tron.

Sheel came ambling up to her. Holly swallowed. Sheel had quite the reputation for being the absolute worse of the instructors. He oversaw the physical training for the upper-class men. Upper-class meaning the ones who'd been through everything else, and wanted to get into Recon. "Short. Tron told me you'd be here. Got in trouble."

"Yes, sir!"

"You can run with the boys tonight. Go through their outfit. That should keep your mouth shut in class after this."

Holly decided not to argue with him, even though he was wrong. She hadn't been talking. It was so unfair or men— stereotyping about women. Not all women blabbed non-stop.

"No lagging. Get down there on the track."

His whistle blew the moment her foot touched the track surface, and the men took off, laughing quietly at something someone had said. About _her_, no doubt.

Holly scowled, and stretched her legs slightly, drawing up behind the last one. She was in shape, she'd show them.

After all, she'd been running for years now. That, and she'd made up her own exercise 'program'. Tanya's cousin always said no woman would ever make it onto Recon. They weren't in good enough shape. So she had decided to prove him wrong. So she wasn't really worried about the running. She'd stay at the back, and pass them slowly.

It flustered men, when women beat them without any apparent effort.

They finished one lap. "Nine more," laughed someone.

One of the men turned their head, glancing back at Holly, who was jogging along smoothly. "What'd you do?"

"Nothing." She smiled dangerously. "Apparently I wasn't listening."

"Go figure." He rolled his eyes. "Talking weren't you? You're going to wish you hadn't after Sheel's done with you."

She shook her head, and decided not to talk anymore, quietly moving around the two men at the back.

Eight more laps to go.

Holly moved up two more men.

Seven.

Two more.

With three more laps to go, Holly was in the middle of the pack, carefully controlling her breathing, so that it sounded like she was hardly running at all. The men ignored her, except for a few glances that spoke plainly about tripping, and wondered what she'd do if they did.

Finally, one of them stuck out their foot.

Holly twisted her heel as she came down, crushing his toes, and moving past him without breaking stride.

There were a few stifled laughs in the back, and then everyone was calm and solemn again.

Two laps.

Holly decided it was time to move up a little faster. She threaded her way through the group to the outside, slowly pulling closer to the head of the group. It was two men, both jogging together about ten feet ahead of everyone else. She had the idea that when they reached the last few hundred yards, they'd be sprinting full out to beat each other.

Hiding a grin, she moved in until she was a few feet behind them, deciding to beat them in the sprint.

They were on the last lap now.

As they moved around the curve into the straightway, Holly pulled up on the outside, stretching her legs farther with them, and pushing the ground away as hard as she could.

They were flying now. The men weren't watching each other anymore, they were watching her. Holly knew better than to turn her head. She kept her eyes glued on the white line up ahead, reaching farther and farther with each stride, and breathing with the pounding of her feet.

Ten feet.

Holly pushed herself forwards harder, feeling a thrill of pleasure as she pulled away from the men, and flew over the line.

She slowed to a jog, paused, resting her hands on her head, and then turned around and went back.

Sheel was scolding them very loudly. "For Frond's sake, Kelp! You let a woman, and a beginner beat you! _And_, she smashed this year's record. Yours, by the way. You might want to work out a little more. Look at her! She's tiny! And she beat you without trying!"

Though pleased to hear about the record, and the commotion she'd made, Holly did _not_ appreciate being called tiny. Not at _all_! That, and the woman remark bothered her. But she decided to let it go until later. After she'd shamed them a few more times.

"Go on then! Hurry up!"

Grumbling, the men began to move to the training building. Mostly a gym, a pool, and a shooting range, along with locker rooms, and a few offices. The only time Holly had been in there, was to put her things in her locker. They didn't start any of that training for a few more months.

First, they went to the shooting range.

Sheel smirked at her. "Too little to use a gun, I hear? Use the paints. And try to hit the targets. Which do not, by the way, include the walls, or floor, or ceiling. That, and people."

Holly snorted. "Just too little according to you. I can shoot well enough." Which was true. She'd been doing paints since she was able to walk. Before that, actually, considering someone had put her down near a gun, and she'd made a mess of the carpet.

And once, though she wasn't supposed to tell, Tanya's cousin had let her shoot one tiny laser burst with his gun. She'd had to do drills for him over and over with her paints before he let her, but it had been worth it. And she still remembered it's feel.

"Fine." Sheel didn't like women who smarted off. How could this woman shoot? She'd probably never been near a gun in her life, and the whole reason she was here, was because she hadn't paid attention in the session on the guns and shooting. "Pick a gun then. Let's see you shoot."

"Sir?"

"What _now_, Vein?" He scowled at the man beside Kelp. The other fast one.

"It's against regulations."

"Keep your mouth shut, and watch." Sheel wasn't known for following regulations.

Holly turned, and ambled over to the wrack, picking up one her size. It helped, to read the tables in the back of the textbooks. She'd already calculated her size out. It took less time later, and people thought you were a genius, doing an hour's worth of math in your head.

The men sat down on the benches where Sheel motioned them, prepared to laugh at her attempts to shoot.

"Right. Go ahead when you're ready. And try not to hit anybody."

With deliberate slowness, Holly flicked the safety. That was the number one thing for looking good when you drew your gun: looking cool when you released the safety. The other thing was actually hitting what you aimed at.

They were all whispering now— the men. Probably making bets.

She shook her head. _Please_!

"Get on with it, woman. Or is it too scary?"

"Just because you're scared you'll look like an idiot doesn't mean you have to act all tough," snapped Holly, deciding it was worth smarting off as she sighted.

The gun came up, and she pulled the trigger once, just right, with just the right squeeze, just the right timing, and just the right angle.

The screen blinked once, and displayed the stats. She was off the perfect center by a one thousandth of a degree.

Silence for a moment.

Then Sheel shrugged. "Alright, Short, keep shooting. Kelp and Vein, you shoot with her. Try to keep it competitive."

Whispering, the men moved to their stations, picking up their guns on the way. Holly hid a grin, pretending not to notice the glances they threw her, and concentrated on the gun.

It was a good gun. She might as well get used to it. She was hoping to hit it dead on tonight.

"Nice shot," commented Kelp, stepping up to the line. "As good as mine. The record this year."

"But of _course_!" Holly glared at the back of his head as he raised his gun. "Who's else would it be? The great Kelp holds _all_ the records, doesn't he? Give me a break."

Trouble shot, and turned, stepping out of Vein's way. "Despite what you think, Miss Short, I'm not insulting you in any way, nor am I attempting to show off for you. If I wished to show off for a woman, let me assure you that it would be some infinitely more attractive than yourself."

Everyone had found an excuse to stop shooting, and tried to keep straight faces. If there was anything Trouble had a right to brag about, it was his insulting skills.

There was a very loud crack, as her fist connected with his face. Sheel looked up from his clipboard just in time to see Trouble totter backwards, lose his balance, and smash his head on the stairway railing.

Holly turned like nothing had happened, and shot again, equaling her last shot.

"You little—"

"If you have an issue with my height, Kelp, I'd be happy to clear any doubts." She spun around, letting her safety settle back into place. She wouldn't be accused of pulling a weapon on anyone later, if she got into trouble for it. Which she probably would.

"Oh! You want to go?" Trouble shot up, leaping forwards, to be stopped by Vein.

"You can't do that, Trouble," he said calmly. "Not only is she not on the same level as you, but she is a woman. It's against rules, and you'll both get in trouble. Drop it."

Sheel leaned over the railing. "You know, I'd really like to see these two tear each other apart. At this rate, you'll be practically _married_ by the time we're done. I don't suppose any of us would let anything slip?"

Grinning, the men shook their heads.

"Good. Then go down to the gym where there's more room, and fight there. After you put your weapons away, mind you."

The men turned, quickly, filing to the weapon rack. This would be worth seeing, they were sure. Miss Short was turning out to be more than she appeared in several aspects.

In the gym, the men seated themselves, and promptly began to make bets on who would win.

Sheel got straight to business. "Alright. Basic rules. First one to holler loses, and no extra weapons. Kelp, bring your knife over here. Fight until you can't fight anymore, or one of you hollers."

Holly nodded, brushing a loose strand of hair out of her face. That was a disadvantage. She had no doubt mister Kelp would pull it if he got a chance. Good thing it wasn't long. "I'm ready."

"Then go ahead."

Trouble lost no time circling and making tough talk. He spun around and dove at her. Holly just barely had time to get out of the way, grabbing his shoulder, and spinning him around into her fist.

The crack sounded quite nice. She loved a good crack.

He grunted, and swung at her. The punch made an even louder crack than hers had, but she let her head roll with it, snaking her foot behind him, and tugging hard on his ankle.

They hit the mat with a thud, Holly rolling over on top, and landing another punch in his face.

On the sidelines, the men leaned forwards, watching with intent interest. This was _extremely_ entertaining. Most of them hadn't seen a good fight for years. It was highly discouraged. But of course, Sheel didn't care much for what other people thought.

Trouble grabbed her by the throat, forcing her into a headlock. Unfortunately, for him, it was backwards: she was facing him. Holly head butted him, and then bit his arm.

He let go.

Holly gave him a shove, rolling to her feet as he did, blood pounding in her ears. She loved fighting. Especially fighting like this. No one got badly hurt, and she usually won. And it gave you such a thrill, to hear the crack, and dodge and twist and turn and spin. Everything was so focused and clear. You felt smooth and fast and perfect.

Again, he wasted no time, letting his foot shoot out, and slam into her stomach.

She gasped, and bent her knees slightly, grabbing his foot and giving a sharp tug. Trouble hit the mat again.

There was a very sudden, very loud bang.

Everyone froze.

Except for Holly that is. She ignored it, falling on top of Trouble, and knocking the breath out of him. Her fist came up.

It was caught from behind. "Little woman—"

Holly didn't wait to hear more. She spun around as she was half lifted into the air, kicking the mat with her feet to steady herself, swung as hard as she could at the face of the man holding her up. If anyone thought they had seen Holly Short mad before, they were wrong. She was mad now. She hated being referred to as little, and hated even more that demeaning tone in which certain men called her: '_woman_'.

The man let go, quickly joining Trouble on the mat. Shocked silence filled the room.

Then Holly got a good look at who she'd punched.

Major Julius Root. A LEP legend, and as rumors had it, the soon to be active commander. Also someone who had a reputation for being sexist and having a _very_ short temper. If one at all.

She might as well say something smart. She was already in bad trouble. "I _would_ give you an explanation, but I doubt you have the mental capacity to comprehend it. Let me say this. That wasn't a good idea. Stay out of the way, or you'll get hurt."

Holly turned, picked up Trouble, who was too completely shocked to quite realize what was happening, and began to throttle him. "You can holler when you feel like it, Kelp. I'll just keep squeezing."

Trouble glanced down at Major Root. He wasn't going to stop her. He had that look on his face that said: Fine. Go ahead and kill yourself if you want. It's not _my_ problem.

He needed air.

With a grunt, he swung his foot at her.

Holly twisted him around, and fell gracefully to the mat, squeezing harder, and smiling slightly.

Trouble could see black now. He stopped struggling and kicking her, and gritted his teeth. If she had any woman in her at all, she'd get worried and let go after a moment.

He could hardly see anything now. She squeezed harder.

Groaning inwardly, Trouble raised a finger.

Immediately, Holly let go, pushing him off of her onto the mat, and getting up.

Trouble lay against the mat, head swimming, gasping for breath. He couldn't believe it. A _woman_ had beaten Trouble Kelp in a fight. And he had given it up in front of the soon to be active commander, and Sheel, and every single one of his peers. And he had lost in a fair fight.

Slowly, he rolled over onto his back, looking up at her. For a moment, her eyes met his. They weren't quite brown, and they weren't quite green either. A mix maybe. They were smiling at him if her face wasn't. Now that she had won, she wasn't particularly angry about it. It was over, and she was pleased with herself, which she had every right to be.

Then, Julius Root got to his feet. "I want to know what's happening in here, Sheel!"

" She got in trouble with Tron today, and had to come work out with us. She and Kelp got into a disagreement, so I let them fight it out. She gets into a lot of fights apparently."

He snorted. "I can believe that. She has a hell of a punch at any rate. However, in case you can't recall, fighting is against the rules. And not only that, but she's a woman, and she hasn't had any training. Matching her against an older man who's been through almost all the training we offer and our top man at that is hardly excusable."

"She picked the fight with him. And she beat him at any rate."

"Woman!" Julius Root spun around to face her, and found to his astonishment that she was no longer there. "Where the hell did she go?"

There was a severe fit of coughing from several of the men behind him, and then the gym door banged shut from the other side of the gym. Miss Holly Short was gone.

"Who was that infuriating thing?" demanded Root, bruised face turning a slightly deeper shade of grape.

Sheel shook his head in false remorse. "I'm sorry, sir. Tron didn't mention her name, just that she'd be showing up. He's probably forgotten her name by now, seeing that it's Tron. You know how he is with forgetting things. Do any of you men know her name?"

In unison, they shook their heads, striving to look innocent without much success. Even Trouble, from where he lay on the mat manage to grunt a negative answer. After all, that girl had punched Root in the face, and for that, she deserved to go free, if nothing else. It had been worth the humiliation, in the end.

Root spun around, and marched towards the door. "When that thing gets to the LEP, I swear, I'm not going near her. She'll probably make it to the referral list for Retrieval, given her attitude. I'm not going to even consider her! She's too much trouble, damn her!"

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**Hee hee. It's a shame he forgot it was that same girl when she burst into his office looking like a plumbing accident with D'Arvit scrawled across her chest. He should have been suspicious. Anyway, that was the one time Holly punched Root in the face. I just had to have it, because… I mean, she had to have sometime, and this was the perfect time. Besides, that comment of Trouble's… Yeah. This is my summer filler, just so no one will forget me. ;) I'm working on a nice long thingy for August-ish/September-ish-ness. Wait patiently.**

**Anyway, sorry for super long author notes, but just for my anon. reviewers, please try to include some way for me to contact you when you ask questions, and so forth. This is especially frustrating when you review stories that have already been completed, and I can't respond to you in author's notes, because I don't know if you're reading my current story. **

**A lot of people seem to have been reading Hitting Hard, lately, and I was asked for a sequel. Right now, I have my calendar marked up with fics for the next two years. (yes, I have no life). Some of them are written, and some are not. At various times I've had vague ideas floating around in the back of my head, but nothing that has really stood out, though I might be able to combing Hitting Hard and Flame of the Gods with something else to make a trio. My action seems pretty popular. So if you guys want me to continue that streak, or something more along the lines of The Spark (as my next one, A Questionable End is), you're going to have to tell me. I don't know what you guys want. You tell me. And feel free to PM or email me with something, if you want to.**

**Hugs and kisses. Another story like above in a week.**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	2. Coffee

**Greetings, etc. (much shuffling of feet, and staring at the floor) err… Small (very small) thing you should know. This chapter is definitely !canon. (the ! means non). Sorry. I mean, the last one was pushing the Fowl Files a bit, but understandable, if Julius didn't know her name, and Holly and Trouble hadn't met in several years. Maybe more. This one kind of establishes earlier friendships. Sorry. Very funny. In my opinion it's an excusable !canon, as it has no effect whatsoever on actual plot (so far), and is a minor detail. Sorry again.**

**Lots of love,**

**O.R.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.

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Holly shifted nervously, and then skittered down the hall to the tiny office she'd been assigned. Finally out of the Academy. Just when she'd begun to get used to it. And it wasn't exactly comforting to know that only twenty women had gotten out with passed tests, and a job. The rest had flunked miserably.

The men, on the other hand, were about two hundred. And of course, being new, she'd get pushed around. Being a woman didn't help.

"Hey…" laughed a voice behind her. "Look at _that_ one. Wonder if she'd go out with me?"

More laughter.

Anger filled Holly, instantly banishing all nervousness. She spun around, glaring very hard. "Oh, so you think so, Vein?"

"That's _Captain_ Vein to you, baby," laughed Vein parading around her in circles. He obviously didn't remember Holly. Or at least, didn't remember what her fists could do.

A second later, he found himself lying flat on his back. "You watch your mouth, Vein!"

Vein looked up, and started. "D'arvit!"

"Anything else?" asked Holly, leaning down, and jerking him to his feet. Her fingers were dangerously close to a fist.

Vein ducked out of her grip, backing away. "I— I apologize! No need to get angry with me, Short. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Quite wrong of me… Won't happen again!"

Holly gave him a shove, sending him flying backwards. "Yeah, what_ever_! Go on!"

There was another laugh behind her. "Hitting already, Holly?"

Holly scowled, setting her hand on her door. "Oh shut _up_, Trouble! I'm not in a good mood today! And Vein asked for it, which is quite obvious. And you're asking for it too now!"

"I know, I know," sighed Trouble, in mock meekness.

At either end of the hall, more and more people were stopping to watch, curiosity evident on their faces. It was not everyday that someone new— and a woman at that— knew the top men, and could knock Vein over with a single punch. What was more amazing, was that she had been able to get an apology out of him, and smart off to Kelp.

Holly opened her door, and went in, almost slamming it on Trouble's fingers. He managed to force open the door though, and after a moment of silence, slipped in behind her.

"Long time, no see, Holly."

"Yeah." She motioned him to the only other chair, and threw herself down in hers. "What now?"

"You aren't going to suddenly attack me are you? Not if I give you some healthy respect?"

For a moment, Holly just looked at him. Trouble squirmed uncomfortably under her gaze, and finally shook his head. "Never mind. Very stupid question. I know better than that, I promise."

He should. After the year they'd spent together at the academy, pursuing all kinds of mischief, and causing sort of mild disturbances, and committing minor infractions of the law. They had been partners in crime, and learned to trust each other for cover. "So," she said, glancing around the sparse little cube with a sigh, "is there any chance of getting into trouble here? You know… stirring up something interesting."

"They've probably already got a pool on you."

Holly sat up straight. "For what?"

"You caught a helluva lot of people's attention a few seconds ago. Vein is the big man around here now! When the current… well, knowing him, Root will probably never retire, but speaking hypothetically, Vein's the next big thing. He's a big hotshot. Not the prissy little angel he used to be. No one punches him. First time in a long time."

A grin was fighting with her mouth, and she lost her attempt to look cool. It came out in full-force, and she looked like an excited little freshman again. Trouble loved it. "That and, ah…" Trouble cleared his throat importantly, and made a show of brushing the front of his uniform off. "Don't think I'm bragging— just the facts, but you know me, and what's more you can get away with sassing me, which is saying something."

Holly rolled her eyes, and gave him that look. "Seriously, Trouble. You aren't that scary! When will people realize that?"

Not scary. Trouble gave her an injured puppy look, and was rewarded with a snort that said quite plainly that she wasn't buying it. "Come on Trouble. You're a lovable guy. What the hell is scary about you? You're definitely not a cutthroat backstabber. I'll bet you and Vein are best friends, and taking his position has never crossed you mind."

Trouble reluctantly admitted that this was true. Holly crowed. "Exactly! You see? So why should everyone else be scared?"

"It's my crunchball," said Trouble, and this time she could tell it was the real thing. "The police league has been a joke until our class came in. Vein's on it of course. A couple of other good guys from our year, but I'm center and starter. I've got the league record, and we might actually make it to the international tournament in Atlantis next year."

Holly nodded like she knew all of this, though she didn't, and got to her feet. "That makes much more sense. So you get the respect, because you're heading the team on its turn around."

"Yep. You can play, can't you?" He looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

"You cannot seriously tell me you don't remember getting your ass wupped during that one-on-one game last year? In which we made bets, and you hadn't realized I actually could beat you when you were playing all out? And it was a good thing, because the kids that showed up knew how you played? Do you remember that money? Good money." Holly leaned over the desk, and grinned at him. "Has the team started practice?"

Trouble nodded. "All year. In season. Out of season. Non-stop. We're now big." He shrugged with as much expression as he could possibly muster, which wasn't much, and also stood. "What do you think about wreaking havoc for a few hours, and then talking more about crunchball? You aren't going to get anything but mindless paperwork. After that, traffic. Nothing time-consuming, and you have room to mess with people."

"Good. You know I will."

He opened the door, and stepped out. "I'll cover for you if you need it, of course, though I tend to doubt it. Are you coming?"

"We're we going?"

"I've got a daily ritual. You need to know it so you can aid me."

It sounded good. Holly followed.

They proceeded to saunter down the hallway, putting on a show for anyone who cared to watch. (quite a lot of them, actually) Trouble and Holly whispered, looked around for any signs of authority occasionally, and continued with their conspiracy, much to the delight of their audience, which was rapidly growing, and showed no signs whatsoever of abating any time soon. In fact, it was probably going to attract unfavorable attention soon.

Trouble turned around, waving to everyone watching them. "Go ahead and go back to ah… pretending to work. You'll get the video."

"Video?" Holly tugged his head around, and pulled it lower. "You mean you're letting evidence survive? Haven't we gone over this before? If someone who shouldn't got a hold of it, we'd _die_!"

With a grin, Trouble held the lounge door open for her. "But this is different. You've heard of Foaly, right?" He waited for the nod, and continued, "He's on our side, of course. He hates Root too. I mean— dislikes him. No one really _hates_ him. Strong dislike though. Anyway, he creates videos, turns them out every month after producer level editing, and if they fall into the wrong hands, they disappear. It's glorious. He even embellishes things perfectly. Nice music, nice effects, nice titles. Everything."

Holly laughed. "Seriously?"

"Of course!" He glanced around, quirking his eyebrows at a few people sitting at tables. On cue, they all found the wall very interesting, and turned around so they didn't have to watch. "That way they can't be called witnesses," explained Trouble, hurrying over to the coffee table.

"You don't drink coffee!" Holly gave him a confused look.

"No, but Root does." Trouble opened the coffee pot, and looked inside. "He had it set about fifteen minutes ago. There's nothing more agitating than appearing to find that you forgot the coffee and you're only getting hot water."

Holly wasn't paying attention to whether or not Julius got water or coffee. She slapped Trouble's hand away. "Wait! Does he take sugar?"

"Half the bowl," muttered Trouble, eyeing the heaping mountain of white crystals in the blue bowl beside the dispenser. "He's got to be seriously unhealthy by now."

"Perfect." Holly opened several cabinets along the wall, and then slowly withdrew a canister of salt. "Dump out the sugar, and leave the coffee alone."

Someone started humming to themselves across the room, and Trouble motioned for her to be quieter. "We don't want anyone dragged in for interrogation. Root's an intimidating person."

"Really?"

The thought of Holly knocking him over with a punch a few years ago made the intimidating comment seem a little bit questionable, and a smile rose to Trouble's face. "To most people then. You'd better hope he doesn't recognize you, or it'll be hell."

"For who?" Holly threw napkins into the trash to cover the sugar, and dumped the entire canister into the bowl, setting the spoon in at a jaunty angle, and stepping back to admire her work. "When will he come?"

Trouble glanced up at the clock on the wall and shrugged. "About a minute. We'll hear him."

"Right then. You can be in the act of taking out the coffee so that he'll be suspicious, but not of the sugar. Understand?"

From outside in the hallway, they heard someone that sounded like a cross between the below of a troll, and a duck. A moment later, they realized it was two persons, screaming simultaneously. The duck's squeaking ended first, and the bellowing continued. There was a loud crash, swearing, and Holly suddenly felt sorry for the poor soul stuck out there in the hallway with no means of escape. Run, she thought. Run or punch him! (she was hoping for the latter)

Before she could react, Trouble shoved her into a chair, and leaned over the dispenser, casually popping the lid.

The door flew open with a bang, and Holly suddenly noticed a large dent in the wall, that appeared to be on the verge of a hole. She had no doubt the bang happened regularly. Probably the result of a _very_ bad temper, and too much shouting.

"Get the hell away from my coffee, Kelp!" The bellowing was back.

"Just checking it to make sure it was alright for you, sir. I wouldn't have wanted anything to be the matter with it, you know. You being so important, and all."

Julius Root shoved Trouble aside, studied the pot a few minutes, decided it hadn't been tampered with, and poured himself a liberal cup as he began his lecture. "Every Monday when I walk in here, Kelp, here you are, smug as a pimple on a goblin's bottom, humming to yourself, along with everyone else, a literal _chorus_ of little bees. And guess what? My coffee— yes my _coffee_ is no longer that. It has suddenly become hot water, thanks to you!" He began shoveling heaping spoonfuls of the salt into his cup.

A few feet away, Holly watched, fascinated, and hoped he'd put more in, as much as would dissolve before he took a drink. The shoveling continued, as did the lecture. "If I _ever_ catch you in here again, Kelp, doing something like this, not only will—" Julius paused to stir the coffee before deciding it needed one last spoonful. "Not only will I call Internal Affairs about the unfortunate incident involving those swear toads in the water fountain, but I'll find it time for you to retire, without compensation!"

Trouble was silent.

"Understand?"

"Yes sir."

Julius mopped his sweaty face off with his hand. "Good then. Get back to work." He glared at Trouble a moment, and raised the cup to his mouth, slowly, slowly, he parted his lips and tipped the cup's contents down his throat. This was the moment they'd all been waiting for.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, very, _very_ rapidly, Julius Root's face did a strange thing. It began to change colors. It went from a flushed pink, to a deep red, and then a purplish tinge, like a frosted grape, and then… a bluish color. By now, chords were standing out of his neck, and his eyes were a bit _bulgy_. Like a horizontal geyser, the contaminated liquid spewed forth from his mouth, showering the room in front of him for about five feet. (this included Trouble)

"What the bloody—" Here he choked, and this cut him off from speech. He did make good use of his fingers, however, and in polite terms, he basically told Trouble that whenever he managed to breathe again, Trouble would be royally screwed.

Trouble had not thought him capable of being able to grasp the more vulgar of finger motions so quickly and easily. As usual, Julius Root had been _hugely_ underestimated. He did grasp them, and they came quickly and easily, and were very effective. As inconspicuously as possible, Trouble began to back away, smiling placatingly.

Of course, like most good ideas, it didn't work.

Julius finally managed to take a breath, and with his first ounce of air came back out a string of curse words that would have literally singed the hair on a dwarf's bottom. (and that's literally a carpet, there)

Holly took this as her cue to leave the area. With a naughty grin, she rose, waved goodbye to poor Trouble, and left the room, thoroughly pleased with herself, and convinced that what had just taken place would happen every morning if she could help it.

* * *

**Heh heh. The next chapter will be lightly tied into this one. Same day, of course, though not about the salt/sugar. You'll see. You know, I think I'll write about the swear toads in Internal Affairs' water fountain. What do you all think? Oh, and I am now on the favs list of over 50 users. Thanks you guys. **

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	3. Crunchball

**Right-o, then. The day I wrote this was the 30th of March. We had two tornados that day. Lovely, isn't it? I had the pleasure of staying at school for four hours with unlimited web access. It quite made up for the weather. Anyway, this chapter is a continuation of that last chapter, in a way. Same day, though not the same episode of antagonization. Also, err… !canon. Sorry.**

**Lots of love,**

**O.R.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.

* * *

**

Holly sighed, got up for the fifth time in the last half hour, and paced out the measurement of her cubical like a wildcat in a cage. The question, of course, was whether or not she should risk drawing any more attention to herself. The Commander had been _furious_! If word got out that she was disturbing the peace he might investigate.

However, the thought of playing on a tolerable crunchball court inside instead of a rundown half-court in the city park was alluring. And the thought of seeing those boys' faces was even better.

She glanced at the clock, saw to her satisfaction that the work day was official over, and set about removing her suit. The newness of it made it difficult to get off, as it was starched, and pressed, and the button holes were still unbroken, and so forth, but she managed to get it off fairly quickly, and slid on the tennis shoes she'd brought with her. The boots she'd been given hurt her feet, and she wasn't going to wear them any longer than she had to.

The jeans would have to do for now, but she doubted she'd exchange them for anything other than an older pair. Jeans was her favorite word.

Once, twice she looked in the computer screen at her reflection. As far as she could tell, her hair wasn't too far out of line. She opened the door, and hurried towards the gym.

It just so happened that Chix Verbil, the team water boy had bumped Julius in the hall that day, making him spill his fresh cup of coffee. Needless to say, Julius was not happy about this turn of events, and Chix was receiving a thorough tongue-lashing as he tried to make his way to the gym.

Julius was going so he could find an excuse to make severe cuts in the team budget, which was miniscule already. He also enjoyed giving people long lectures and this errand happily coincided with his lecture to Chix.

"And further more—" He broke off abruptly, frowning at Chix, who was staring off into the distance. "Are you listening to me, imbecile?"

"Look at her _butt_!" Chix licked his lips, eyes huge. "What's her name?"

With several choking noises, Julius turned to block Chix's view of the butt in question, and let out a howl. "Stop looking at people's _butts_ Verbil! Was that why you ran into me in the hall?"

Chix sidled to the side, where he could see the butt again, eyeing it and it's owner as it disappeared around the corner. "Sorry, Commander. Just trying to get a better look. I honestly didn't see you. She really sticks out, you know? That gorgeous red hair—"

The choking, which had started to die down, returned in full force, and Julius actually considered hitting him. "Are you listening to me?"

"No," answered Chix truthfully. "Can we hurry up? I want to get a close up, if you don't mind."

"I do mind!"

"You can look to if you want," he offered kindly. "I won't get in your way, and I promise I'll try not to spill anymore coffee on you. It's kind of awkward when it looks like your commander just peed his pants."

If Julius had been blue in the face before from yelling, well— never mind. It was doubtful things could get much worse. You really had to feel sorry for Chix. Not only was he going to get a cheap coffin, but he was so incredibly stupid, that he didn't realize it.

Holly opened the gym door, discretely sniffing up the warm air that reeked of wax, and smiling at the sound of scuffling tennis shoes. From her vantage point on the gym walkway above the bleachers she could see the guys stretching and bragging. Typical of the jocks. A few of them had even decided to leave the shirts behind for the benefit of the ladies sitting on the other side of the gym. None of _them_ looked like they were going to go anywhere near a crunchball.

She hadn't played crunchball at the Academy. Not very many people knew she played. It probably wouldn't have surprised them, since Holly was naturally good at most sports, but it wasn't very public. She liked to be able to startle people. Now would be the time for that.

With a slightly smile, she ambled down the steps until she was directly behind the team's bench, and leaned over to pull Trouble's hair. "Hey, Trouble. Am I invited?"

"Hey!" He turned, nodding as she swung over the rail. "Join us. I wasn't sure whether or not you'd show up."

"Oh?" Holly arched a challenging eyebrow. "And why would that be?"

Trouble shrugged. "It _is_ your first day."

A ball came whistling at them, and Holly snatched it out of the air, half a second before it permanently damaged Trouble's face. "Watch where you throw that, Vein!"

"Sorry. But I couldn't resist. Trouble's so enamored with you, I didn't think he'd notice, and I just wanted to test—" Grant ducked to the side as the ball came whistling back at him twice as fast as he'd originally thrown it. "Just kidding, Holly!"

Holly got to her feet and pretended to brush herself off. "Whatever. What are we going to do?"

"Mondays are game days. We've already got teams for this month, though we shuffle them. It was an odd number, so you'll make it even." Trouble nodded towards Grant, who was dribbling in tiny circles. "You can be on his team. He's short one."

One of the men shuffled over uncertainly, a little wary of Holly, since he'd been there when she laid Vein flat on the ground earlier that morning. "Sorry to interrupt, but uh… is she going to play? I mean, what— what's she going to do? She's not going to join the team, or something, is she?" He shot Holly a hasty glance. "Not that that would be a problem, just wondering."

"If I'm not good enough, I won't join," said Holly calmly, slicking a loose strand of hair out of her face. "That simple. Let's go."

Slowly, the men moved out onto the court. A few of them sent her curious glances, but they ignored her for the most part. She was a women. Women didn't join the crunchball team. Let her play. Don't make her angry. She'll lose interest and wander off soon.

Holly studied the men on her team for a few seconds, and then moved to the empty guard position. Grant was about as good as Trouble, and she thought she recognized a couple of the men. At any rate, they all looked like they were descent at least, and appeared to know what they were doing, which was always a plus during games. (particularly the ones you wanted to win)

"Wait a second." Grant turned around and motioned to Holly. "You start at center."

This caught the attention of everyone. A few of the men on her team grumbled. Trouble also grumbled, but it was for an entirely different reason. Grant smiled unpleasantly at him. "I can't _wait_ to see our star player get _schooled_! And you know you will."

Beside Trouble, Holly looked tiny. He was almost two inches taller than her, and about three more across the shoulders. It was almost laughable, but naturally Trouble didn't feel like laughing.

A few of the men tittered.

The second the ball was in the air, Holly was beside it, almost two thirds her height off the ground, snapping it to Grant before Trouble even had time to react. She came down hard on his toes, almost knocking him over. One of the reasons women didn't usually get involved in crunchball was because of the amount of contact. Unless you broke something, or there was a lot of blood, no one cared less who you knocked. "Don't get too much in my way, Trouble Kelp. I'm going to _play_ this game!"

Very politely, Trouble moved to the side, and Holly took off down the court, catching the ball Grant tossed her, and bowling over the man who got in her way.

Then, in something close to slow motion, the whole gym gaped as she kicked her feet together, and rose off the ground, higher and higher and higher, and slammed the ball through the net. The entire basket quivered from its force, and she hung on the rim for an instant before dropping back to the gym floor with a soft thud.

Everything was silent except for the hollow bouncing of the crunchball on the gym floor.

Finally, one of Trouble's teammates rounded on him. "Did you know she could jump like that?"

He nodded sheepishly.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

He shrugged.

"Why didn't you invite her to play before?"

Trouble scowled at him. "This is her first day, idiot! She's been in the Academy!"

Several of the men started to shake their heads. "Impossible! We checked everyone who played crunchball in the Academy. There weren't any women!"

"I don't play," said Holly quietly.

Almost as one, the team turned to look at her. It wasn't comprehendible that someone could be that good, and not play. "Since most teams are only guys, they don't tend to be welcoming. Not their fault exactly. I mean, I am kind of odd, but I dislike the looks people give me." She tossed the ball to Trouble. "Here. Thanks for letting me play for a while. I'd better get home."

"But—"

She grinned cheekily at him. "I just had to beat you again."

One of the older men turned around. "Kid, it doesn't matter that you're a girl! We want to go to Atlantis. If you're that good we want you. You can't just walk out after baiting us like that!"

The door flew open with a bang, and Chix Verbil fled down the stairs, followed closely by Julius, who was screaming profanities at the top of his lungs between death threats.

At the bottom of the bleachers, Chix stopped dead as he caught sight of Holly. "Look, Julius! That's the one with the gorgeous butt!"

Snickers all around, except for Julius who hadn't heard over the noise he was making, and Chix who was actually serious. Holly set her jaw, and turned towards Trouble. "Give me that ball back."

Cautiously, Trouble tossed it to her.

Holly eyed Chix for a moment, then leaned back, and hurled the ball at him. It was what the older LEP members called a _pop_. Like when you take a dandelion between your thumb and index finger, and _pop_ the head off. Chix's head popped. Almost. The ball hit him full in the face, and he dropped like a bucket of squid.

Unfortunately, the ball had been thrown with so much force that it bounced off Chix and continued on its course, hitting Julius in the head as well.

Trouble struggled with a laugh. "Isn't that the second time now?"

Julius struggled to his feet, trying to pick of the remainder of his shattered dignity, and failing miserably. "Woman! Get off the court! What the hell are you doing disrupting the team and causing violence, and injuring fellow members of the LEP?"

No one moved. Especially Holly.

"Did you hear me?" His neck was bulging. "Women don't play crunchball! Get off the damn court!"

Holly sighed and glanced at the rest of the team. "I'll stay then."

Laughing, one of the men ran to get another ball. They were going to like Miss Holly Short. She had a wonderful way of driving the commander's blood pressure up a few notches. Of course, none of them wanted to get on her bad side, but so long as they were nice and the commander kept her occupied, things should be fine.

Julius stepped over Chix just as he started to sit up, lost his balance, and tumbled down the rest of the stairs to land in an undignified heap at the bottom.

It was a sad day for LEP pride, at least from the top's view. The rest of the LEP was very proud at what they had accomplished— or rather, what Holly had accomplished.

They opened another betting pool on when Julius would have his first heart attack. Soon— they were sure. With Holly around, it looked like all things were possible.

Julius sat down huffily, deciding not to do anything about the woman, and figuring she'd make a complete fool of herself. He couldn't risk something else happening. Getting hit by that ball was bad enough. Tripping over Chix Verbil had been a nightmare. He didn't even want to consider what the next thing might be.

Chix staggered to his feet, blood streaming out of his nose, with a rapidly swelling face, and collapsed on the bench next to Julius. "She likes me."

"What the hell do you mean, she likes you?" Julius turned to stare at him in clear astonishment. "She just bashed one side of your face in, you moron! How's that mean she likes you?"

"Showing off for me," grinned Chix. "You can tell when they get feisty like that. She wants attention because she's attracted to my naturally good looks and charm."

Inside, Julius was screaming. "Not even a bull troll, sprite. Think again."

"Don't be jealous! I'll give you a few pointers, if you like. Then, you too can be beautiful— though given the material we have to work with, it might be a bit of an overstatement if you know what I mean. Not that that's a bad thing— if everyone were as beautiful as me, it would be harder to appreciate my natural charm and good looks."

On the court, someone dropped the ball, they were laughing so hard. Holly groaned and started looking for something else to throw. It took her a moment before she realized the men were backing away from her. She sighed. "I don't lose my temper with anyone except the person annoying me. You're safe."

The men stopped backing away, but they wisely chose to stay where they were. Just in case…

Just to be careful.

This time, Julius noticed what Holly was doing, and began to scoot away from Chix. Slowly, at first, and then faster and faster until he was a good distance from the target. He was certain Holly wouldn't miss, but he was worried about it bouncing off Chix's exceptionally hard head.

"Don't be frightened, Julius," prattled Chix, not even noticing that everyone was holding their breaths, and watching Holly in delight as she aimed. "Anything is possible, they say."

He was knocked clean off the bench.

Very carefully, Julius stood up and began walking up the steps. When he had reached the door, he turned around. "Women have no place on the crunchball team, and I want you off, or—" The rest of his sentence was cut off as he hastily ducked to the other side of the door.

After waiting an instant to make sure he was gone, Holly turned around, smiling brightly at everyone. "Well then— shall we actually play crunchball? _I _want to go to Atlantis."

Trouble laughed. "We all do, Holly. We all do."

* * *

**How happy… I just though that maybe we should have established Chix prior to his heaving activities in mockery of Julius at the end of the first book. This was the place to do it, no? The next chapter, in my opinion, is better than the first. Sorry if this one lagged. Um, just so you guys know, I'm having the hugest WB. Oh yeah... and go check out the Orion Awards! It is awesome. Join the forums. Someone said the link in my profile wasn't working, but I'm going to fix it.  
**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	4. Greetings

**Another chapter. Just so you all know, this story is referred to in my next super long, exceptionally excellent one. (A Questionable Ending) I have promised it for August 14th, but now I'm not sure-- I'm having WB beyond belief. You'll all like it. Beside the point though. It's amusing, it's almost pointless (though not quite), and Foaly gets his little moment of triumph. You'll see what I mean.**

**Loads of love,**

**O.R.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.

* * *

**

Julius rubbed his head tiredly, wishing the pounding would stop. Not literally— his blood was pounding, heart was pounding, _head_ was pounding, _everything_ was pounding, and he couldn't concentrate, damn it all! "Major Kelp! Get in here!"

Slowly the door opened, and Trouble peeked in. "I didn't do it sir!"

A vein pulsed on Julius's forehead. His eyes wandered from Trouble's face back to his desk, and stopped on his coffee cup. "You're telling me you haven't switched the damn sugar with the damn _salt_ for the six thousandth, five hundred and seventy-first time, and you expect me to believe it, when for six thousand, five hundred and seventy times, it _has_ been you? And don't question me, because I've kept tally!"

"Yes sir…"

"And why do you expect me to believe this sorry excuse for an excuse?"

Trouble shuffled his feet uncertainly, and cleared his throat several times. "Well, sir, uh—"

The deep red on Julius's face deepened, and the color faded to a bruised grape color. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Trouble was certain the spittle was going to knock him over one of these days. He almost began to shake his head, and then had a brilliant instant of inspiration. "Yes sir. I mean, sir, Holly Short, sir. She beat me to the bowl today, and I couldn't switch them, because she threatened to punch me— I mean, she wanted to do it instead of me, and ah, you know how _that_ goes. Women and all."

Actually, Julius did know how that went. He didn't tell Trouble this however, not wanting to lose face in front of his men.

The lights flickered. Both men froze.

"Is this a drill?" whispered Trouble nervously. "Or did the pony mess up again?"

The lights went out.

"D'arvit," swore Julius. "No power, no coffee."

Trouble was fighting a losing battle with the door. "Sir! It's trying to shut, and I don't know why—"

Hastily, Julius got up and squeezed out into the hall, pulling Trouble after him. "It's another one of those fantastic drill's Foaly's dreamed up. The doors lock automatically. Come on, we don't want to get stuck back here. We'd better go find him, and twist his tail until he opens them all again, and returns power."

"What about the civilians?"

"It's just in this building." Julius gritted his teeth. "Which of course makes it all the more absurd, since we have the back-up, emergency generators in case of a lockdown." He sighed, and motioned for Trouble to follow him. "Come on. Let's not waste time."

* * *

Holly sat in her chair, frozen in the darkness. Her computer was dead. The lights were dead. She didn't even have the comforting hum of the ventilation system. She needed to be able to see. Slowly, she groped through her drawers, finally locating the emergency flashlight Foaly had insisted that everyone have. Thank Frond for that pony. 

That was— if that pony hadn't actually caused his lack of power. If he had, he'd not live long enough to bequeath his belongings to his carrot garden.

The door. She had no clue what was happening outside. And then she remembered. They were all hooked up to the power system. In case of attack, they were locked when the power was cut off. There was no way to open them now. She wondered how many others were trapped in their 'safe' modules.

Julius was going to be furious with Foaly— if he ever got out of his cubical. Given the situation, Foaly might have realized his mistake, and decided to leave the doors locked.

There was only one way. The ventilation system. Or the plumbing… make that two. Holly preferred the vents.

Slowly, slowly, Holly climbed onto her desk, pulled out her gun, and started slicing open the vent. The laser cast an eerie glow over the darkened room, and Holly tried to concentrate on the task at hand— of cutting her way into the vents, without much success.

* * *

Julius tripped over a janitor's bucket with a roar of surprised rage, skittered dangerously across the tile floor, and landed with a clatter and plenty of unprofessional swearing about sixteen feet away. "Why me?" he asked, sitting where he was in what appeared to be total dejection, and praying no one else would get to the pony before him. "Why me? And why _today_ of all days? And why wasn't I warned?" 

"Successful criminals don't phone to give the details of their vile schemes." Trouble probably shouldn't have quote the Commander at himself, but the opportunity was too good to pass up.

"Shut up!" Julius tried to get to his feet, and failed. One foot seemed to be permanently stuck in the mop bucket's little water-wringing-contraption-thingy, and he had the most uncomfortably _wet_ sensation. To put it plainly, the water on the floor was soaking into the seat of his pants. This was perhaps the most humiliating thing that had happened to him in the last twelve years. The most humiliating thing before that— never mind. Never mind that at _all_. He shuddered and crossed himself at the thought of it.

"Do you need some help?"

Then, to Julius's eternal shame (photos were immortalized in a number of underground pamphlets. Underground at the LEP, and underground of the underground. They were snickering over the pictures for years during the annual gang convention in Atlantis), Trouble Kelp pulled out a flashlight, one that every good officer should have ready for emergencies, and got a good look at him. "Oh. Oh my… Err, Commander? Sir? Are you all right, or would you like me to get some help?"

"I'm not permanently injured, Kelp! A slight mishap because of some idiot who left a bucket of water lying around in the middle of the hall in the dark!" (Various curse words have been omitted from the previous passage, as the actual words of the message are too far apart to be remembered in meaning and context.) Julius struggled valiantly with the bucket, and only managed to drop a heavy wooden mop on his head. This did not aid the painful pounding that had only increased during the entire episode of ridiculous and unlucky mishaps. Perhaps he should retire.

"If you say so, sir."

"I do." Julius tried again, and failed to do anything but further entangle his foot in the mop bucket's little water-wringing-contraption-thingy.

After a moment of uncertain silence, Trouble leaned over, grabbed hold of the bucket, and pulled. For an instant, they both thought it was starting to give way. Happiness was short lived, however, and with a tremendous howl, Trouble lost his balance and toppled, sending up a geyser of soapy slosh as his head cracked on the tiles.

Julius thought his ankle was broken, and if it healed in the position it was in now, he'd forever look like an off-balance ballerina of some kind, only able to perform point on one foot. In his eagerness to not look like an off-balance ballerina, he began bashing the bucket against everything within range, including Trouble's head, which was (unfortunately for him), lying within perfect kicking/bashing range. Julius took full advantage of it, and almost broke Trouble's head before the bucket gave out and shattered. "Good thing you have a hard head Kelp. Not injured badly, are you?"

"Not at all," muttered Trouble, blinking desperately, and trying to see straight before realizing it was dark, and he couldn't anyway. For a moment, he'd thought Julius had permanently blinded him. "A slight headache, but nothing major."

"Good. Let's go then."

Trouble _had_ meant to be sarcastic, but apparently Julius hadn't caught that bit.

* * *

Holly grunted, inching onward. She'd never imagined the vents would be this tight. The only reason she'd been able to get into them was that her room was right underneath a big junction. Now, she wondered just exactly how, she was going to get out. She was _definitely _not finding her way back to where she'd come. There was no turning around. Literally and figuratively. 

If she went forwards, and then backed up out of a vent, she'd get jammed in there, because she'd get stuck on the little notches that someone so kindly installed on the sides of these ventilation pipes or whatever thy were called. Sadly, the only thing she could possibly consider an exit was a large junction. And she'd have to go headfirst. That was much more sad.

The pressure on her shoulders suddenly disappeared, and Holly realized she'd come to just one of those junctions. She stopped hastily, careful not to pull herself any farther so she didn't lose her chance to get out.

One of the boys would have bashed the vent open with their head, but Holly was a little above that. Carefully, she squeezed her arm past her head, and forced a conveniently twisted latch to the side. The vent fell to the floor with a clatter, and with a smile, Holly tugged her other arm from her side, and flashed her light over the room. It certainly wasn't much, but she'd take it, despite the fact that the floor was six feet below her. The lucky occupant had not been in their room when things happened.

She tipped forwards, and heaved herself through the opening. So far, so good. Holly bent her knees, holding herself from the waist down inside the vent, so she wouldn't fall.

With a grunt, she let go of the sides, and dropped the flashlight to the floor. She was going to need both hands for this. Why, she wondered, did they have to make the vent in the middle of the ceiling? There wasn't any shelving she could climb down, or even a wall to cling to. Questions later though. She tried to straighten her legs out.

They didn't move.

Again she tried, and this time realized that one foot was caught on the other. The other foot was caught on something in the vent, by the bootstrap. Once again, she found herself complaining about the LEP's poor stylistic choices. Why oh_ why_? And now she was stuck in someone's office, and Julius would probably yell at her, and…

Whose office was she in, anyway?

Holly squinted at the papers scattered across the desk below her. There. A release form. Who was it signed by?

She looked closer, and immediately stiffened.

_Active Commander Julius Root_.

Not only was she going to die, but she was going to be lightly grilled with lemon juice and served on an engraved silver platter with a side of Iceberg salad and exotic worms. Condronia beetle juice too, if it wasn't to much to ask, and perhaps hashed white nettles for desert. She wondered if she'd look well under glass.

* * *

Julius hobbled along after Trouble though the halls until he reached Ops. Luckily, Ops was a doorless open room, full of wires, couches, and random coffee dispensers. Foaly insisted on the best for his minions, and Julius _and_ the Council agreed that he had been the head of a labor union at one point in his life. Either that, or some kind of politician, because he was absolutely _ruthless_, and nothing they could do would stop him. 

Inside, it was very confusing. The techies seemed to be taking things in stride, lighting plenty of candles they'd found somewhere, and a few of them were actually getting cozy on the couches.

Julius tried not to look. He didn't want to be scarred for life. He cleared his throat noisily, and waited to be noticed, but as Foaly had posted specific instructions to harry, harass, and otherwise intimidate the commander at all available opportunities in every single one of his weekly memos, no one looked up at Julius. They knew why he was here.

Right then. On to other tactics. He climbed on a chair, and bellowed a few curse words. Despite Foaly's memo, he got attention. No one used words like that in Ops. Much worse in fact. His attempt was almost laughable. "Where's the pony?"

One favorite of Foaly's, a good young centaur with a slick tail lowered her head again. "Are you referring to his Much-Esteemed-and-Exalted-Exceptionally-Benevolent-Worshipful-All-powerful-Forever-reigning-Majesty?" There was a shocked pause, and then glances among the techies, who suddenly understood the game. "Because if so, you just referred to him in a _very_ disrespectful way, which is punishable by death."

Julius blinked. Had that centaur actually succeeded in brainwashing a large group of allegedly intelligent people? Did they actually think he was worthy of anything other than garbage duty? "He just authorized a lockdown without telling anyone."

"His Much-Esteemed-and-Exalted-Exceptionally-Benevolent-Worshipful-All-powerful-Forever-reigning-Majesty does what he likes. Why are you questioning him?"

Inside, Julius was howling. This was _ridiculous_! He knew all too well, however, that he was in Foaly's territory, and dependent on the good-will, however meager of the techies surrounding him. Only with their royal permission, would he get into The Booth. Sadly, this would involve much kissing of hands, feet, and hems of various garments. He relished the thought of none of them, and wished dearly, that it was a crime to have a smart mouth. No— he wished murder were not a crime for a moment. "His much… whatever… royal… Forget it. Foaly's effectively shut down the city's and therefore People's law enforcement. He needs to flip the power switch again."

"It's all up to his Much-Esteemed-and-Exalted-Exceptionally-Benevolent-Worshipful-All-powerful-Forever-reigning-Majesty."

"I want to talk with him!"

The young centaur rose, flicking her tail impertinently at him, and Julius hoped with all his heart that when Foaly was booted out she would not be taking his place. She was so _like_ Foaly, and if he hadn't known better, he would have sworn Foaly had probably trained her in Julius-antagonizing. "I will speak to his Much-Esteemed-and-Exalted-Exceptionally-Benevolent-Worshipful-All-powerful-Forever-reigning-Majesty on your behalf, and see what he has to say."

She clopped importantly across the room to The Booth, and bowed low, elegantly, and with much to much flare for Julius's taste. Actually he hated the whole bow thing. He hoped Foaly wouldn't make him do it to enter. "Much-Esteemed-and-Exalted-Exceptionally-Benevolent-Worshipful-All-powerful-Forever-reigning-Majesty, please grant your humble and undeserving servant permission to enter your glorified presence so that I might speak to you on behalf of a brainless nitwit, come to plague you for ridiculous favors."

"Certainly, oh Favored One." Foaly was enjoying this whole thing immensely, and Julius could tell immediately. With a hiss, The Booth opened to admit her.

The Booth remained silent for a few minutes. Then, with much majestic and imposing creaking, the doors swung open, and Foaly could be seen lounging in his hover chair, being hand-fed carrots and fanned by various attendants who had been in The Booth with him at the time of lockdown, as well as that one particular centaur. "Enter."

Trouble coughed heavily for several minutes, and had to wipe his eyes before stepping forward to be smacked until he bowed.

"Foaly!" Julius roared, and ran forward.

To his surprise, the techies were actually very fit and accomplished people. They caught him, stopped him, _and_ restrained him. Most people could not do this. "You will refer to his Much-Esteemed-and-Exalted-Exceptionally-Benevolent-Worshipful-All-powerful-Forever-reigning-Majesty as his Much-Esteemed-and-Exalted-Exceptionally-Benevolent-Worshipful-All-powerful-Forever-reigning-Majesty!" He was smacked several times over the head with legal pads.

"But I can't remember that!"

On his hover chair, Foaly stretched luxuriously, and made a mental note to give everyone a liberal bonus for this display. Especially that girl with the cute tail.

Julius got into a spat with several of his mock guards, and while they fought, Foaly wondered if he should make them lock Julius in a cubicle with a stack of math problems and refuse to let him out until they were finished. That would fall under the category of torture and cruelty though, he was certain, and he decided to veto it, despite the obvious attraction of the idea.

Finally, he pushed himself upright, and shouted: "Speak, imbecile!"

"Return the power!" howled Julius right back, all too happy to make himself heard.

"After his Much-Esteemed-and-Exalted-Exceptionally-Benevolent-Worshipful-All-powerful-Forever-reigning-Majesty sees his masseuse." Foaly shut his eyes.

"Now, pony-boy, or I'll cut all funding!"

With a dramatic sigh, Foaly reached towards one of his panels. He was seriously reconsidering the math thing. "Out of the kindness of his heart, his Much-Esteemed-and-Exalted-Exceptionally-Benevolent-Worshipful-All-powerful-Forever-reigning-Majesty will grant your imprudent request, ungrateful wretch."

The lights came back on, and for the good of everyone, Julius was forced to leave The Booth and Ops by an escort of no less than eleven techies and computer nerds.

They were afraid of violence.

After this, things might have eventually cooled off, except for one small thing. Julius, whose blood was practically _evaporating_, he was so angry, fled back down the hall to his cubical.

Needless to say, everyone wanted to know what had happened, and was crowding around the stupid door. Julius pushed and shoved his way through them, snarling threats, and promising sudden, immediate, and even instant death if they didn't move.

Very wisely these people got out of the way.

When Julius opened the door, the first thing he saw was the face of Captain Holly Short, dangling a few inches above the top of his head, swaying back and forth softly. The second thing he saw was the gun she was holding that was pointed at his head.

Holly, in an effort to escape the room before he returned, had been in the process of trying to cut a hole in the ceiling. Naturally, when Julius had opened the door, she'd given her attention to that general area, and of course forgotten to point the gun elsewhere.

The last thing he saw was her finger on the trigger.

After that, he didn't know what happened, or what he saw, and he didn't care, because he had a heart attack. Really. Actually. He did.

Definitely not on the-top-five-best-way's-to-greet-your-Commander list.

* * *

**Cute? Maybe that centaur with the cute tail was a little suggestive of possible /Foaly, but personally I think he's too eccentric for a romance. Too many quirks. No sensible woman would put up with that for long. And without the quirks, he's just not Foaly. He strikes me more as the lovable, slightly ridiculous, and at times childish bachelor, prone to get in trouble because of his mischievous little mind, but clever enough to escape most of the punishment, if not the blame. (sorry about the character rant. I got carried away).**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


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